


Somewhere Only We Know

by Imperfect_Sentence



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Happy Ending, Oral Sex, Post-TRoS, Sex, True Love, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperfect_Sentence/pseuds/Imperfect_Sentence
Summary: The Resistance has won, Ben realises.But Rey offers him her hand and he thinks, maybe, he has too.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> After a long stint of writer's block I was finally, finally, able to finish a fic and give my favourite galactic couple the happy ending I think they deserve. Please enjoy and I would love for you to leave a review because your encouragement mind just motivate me to write that long fic I've been dreaming of x
> 
> P.S. I know Rey and Ben couldn't have left Exegol on the Falcon but leaving on Luke's X-Wing just don't hit the same, OK?

_“This could be the end of everything,_

_So why don't we go,_

_Somewhere only we know?”_

Somewhere Only We Know - Keane 

* * *

In the aftermath of the final battle, Ben closes his eyes and smiles for what feels like the first time in forever. Rey, his perfect little scavenger, is finally in his arms, her body soft and warm and _alive_. His ears ring with his name, his _old_ name, and his lips tingle with the memory of her mouth against his.

The bond hums.

He pulls her into another crushing embrace. It’s as if he’s holding the galaxy in his arms. She is so small, so fragile. She is nothing and yet, somehow, she is everything. He never wants to let her go.

But she pulls away. Gets to her feet. He looks up at her, at his army burning in the night sky behind her. Ash and debris rain down. Gunfire and grinding metal. The smell of blood, sweat, smoke and gasoline.

The Resistance has won, he realises.

But Rey offers him her hand and he thinks, maybe, he has too.

*

They co-pilot the _Millennium Falcon_ , blasting out of Exegol’s orbit into dark empty space.

The ship is exactly as Ben remembers it. He can feel Han Solo’s spirit in the cockpit, in the moulded first officer’s seat, the well-worn dash, the dips and grooves littered with long Wookie hairs. He can detect a hint of bootleg liquor and spicy aftershave, and he is a child sitting in his father’s lap, stubble pressed against his cheek, large weathered hands guiding his own on the steering column, endless planets and stars spread out ahead of them like a blanket covered in salt.

For the first time in a long time, the memories don’t make him want to break things.

He looks over at Rey. She flies just like she fights, utterly absorbed, her brow furrowed in concentration, tiny pink tongue peeking out the side of her mouth. She presses buttons, flicks switches and checks the fuel gauge, but as she moves to key in the coordinates of their destination, she stops, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

Ben’s stomach drops. He realises neither of them thought they would ever get this far.

‘Where do you want to go?’ He regrets the question as soon as he asks because, of course, she wants to go back to the Resistance, back to her friends, and his blood runs cold with the memory of holding her lifeless body in his arms, the last time she went to a place he couldn't follow.

But her hand finds his on the thruster and when she laces their fingers it’s as if she’s squeezing his heart.

‘Somewhere only we know.’

He may no longer have a home to go back to, but maybe they can build a new one together.

*

The first time Rey gets Ben alone in the _Falcon’s_ crew room, she’s all over him.

She shoves him up against the cold, metal wall, her mouth crashing into his, her greedy hands roaming his body and rucking up his tunic in pursuit of bare skin. She kisses his neck, biting and sucking like she’s starving back on Jakku. He hisses as she sucks a dark bloom just below his left ear. 

But for all of her aggression, she is painfully inexperienced. He felt it through the bond, the shy way she looked at him, the clumsy way she touched herself in her bunk at night when she thought he couldn’t see. He feels it now in the tremble of her hands beneath his ribs, in the awkward roll of her hips against his own. She squeaks at the press of his erection against her stomach, though she tries to cover it with a throaty moan, a lick to his Adam’s apple.

Redoubling her efforts to seem confident, she cups him between the legs and begins fiddling with his flies. Her hand dips inside and he whimpers at the warmth of her palm where he needs her most. She starts to stroke him, thumb swiping across his leaking crown, and it takes everything in him to snatch her wrist and pull her away.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

He can barely look at her with her face so pretty and flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. The heated look in her eyes reminds him of their fights, of the countless times he wished they had ended like this instead of him alone in his quarters jerking off amidst a maelstrom of smouldering furniture, unconscious Stormtroopers piled up in the hallway outside.

‘I want to wait.’ His whole body is trembling in protest of his words and he’s squeezing her wrist much too tight. It would be so easy to turn her around, to pull down her breeches and finally, _finally_ , press inside.

She whines. ‘No.’ Her breath is hot in his ear. ‘Ben, please…’

She rolls her hips more purposefully this time and he can feel the scalding heat of her through the front of his breeches, the slightest hint of wetness. His cock is so hard, his balls so tight, he thinks he might die.

But he grasps her biceps and gently pushes her away.

‘It will be better if we do.’ His voice is low and gravelly, almost incomprehensible. He clears his throat and tries again. ‘I want to make it good for you.’ He tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I need to make it good.’

She opens her mouth to protest, but ultimately sighs and burrows her face into his chest. He holds her tight. Presses a kiss to the top of her head.

He’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.

*

Ben has only ever heard of Lah’mu, this remote silver-ringed planet on the Outer Ring Territories. He stands with Rey on the _Falcon’s_ landing platform, looking out at the jagged mountains and endless green plains. The only sound is the cool breeze swishing through the long grass, their breathing, their beating hearts.

‘We might be the only people on this planet,’ whispers Rey.

‘Perfect,’ says Ben.

He takes her hand and inhales.

The air smells like mud and new beginnings.

*

They build a house together. A simple one. The skeleton of the subterranean living space is already there: an open-plan kitchen and living room, and two small bedrooms complete with dusty furniture, insulator drapes and chiller bars to help regulate the temperature underground.

Weeks pass as they renovate and refurbish. Though they needn’t talk, the bond stronger than ever between them, they wear out their voices getting to know each other, filling in the blanks.

Ben loves Rey’s accent, the way she sounds more regal than he does. He’s so used to her spitting and snarling, fighting him at every turn, that he has to remind himself that this side of her is no longer just for his mother, that errant Stormtrooper or that roguish pilot. It’s no longer just in his head.

She tells him of her life on Jakku. Her living space was sparse, utilitarian: one bed, one chair, one pot, one bowl, one knife, fork, spoon. She never bothered decorating because that would have given the place a sense of permanence. It would have felt like giving up.

And so, she dives into decorating this house, their home. With bits and pieces found in the cupboards, she knits clumsy blankets, stuffs cushions and even cultivates a few brightly potted plants, marvelling at how easily they grow, their succulent green shoots unfurling and stretching towards the sky.

*

Although the house comes with most things, it doesn’t come with everything.

They’re down to their last week of rations when they accept that they will need to venture out for supplies. They need food, seeds if they’re to become self-sufficient, soap, toothpaste, candles, gasoline, gardening tools… And that’s just what Ben can think of off the top of his head.

They check the _Falcon’s_ radar. There’s an inhabited planet roughly two days’ voyage away. Ben wants to go together, but Rey quashes the idea. Like it or not, Ben is a war criminal; half the galaxy would sooner put a blaster bolt between his eyes than allow him free passage.

There is no choice but for Rey to go alone.

*

_‘I can’t bear to be apart from you.’_

_‘I’ll come back. I promise. I promise you.’_

*

Rey is gone less than a week, but to Ben it feels like forever.

He tries his best to keep busy. He exercises, meditates and reads. He builds, fixes and cleans, hoping he might impress her when she returns. Still, he can’t help feeling for her through the bond. Can’t help staring up at the sky, waiting for the familiar shape of the _Falcon_ to reappear, terrified that perhaps it never will.

_‘Is this how you felt waiting for your parents?’_

Sleeping alone is difficult. Through a phenomenal act of self-restraint, they haven’t done much more than kiss and cuddle. But he has already gotten used to holding her in the queen-sized bed they now share, his much larger body curled protectively around her own, their hearts pressed against one another beating the same metronome.

At night, he lies awake. He misses the way she feels in his arms, the heat and smell of her skin, the way her chest rises and falls as she breathes. He misses the way she sometime snores, the way she drools on the pillow and, if she is facing him, his chest. But most of all, he misses the way she looks at him right before she falls asleep. The way her eyes soften, so warm and trusting. The way all the hurt and pain of the past seems to slip away, leaving behind only feelings he once hesitated to name.

*

Ben is sitting in a makeshift chair outside the front door.

He’s staring at his hands, trying to remember the exact way it felt to finally hold Rey’s. He remembers sitting with her across the fireplace, across the galaxy, in the liminal space between imagination and reality, in a world, that for a few moments, existed only for them. He remembers feeling like he was seeing her for the first time. Like he was seeing inside himself.

He felt naked. Stripped bare.

Like his soul was outside his body in the palm of her hand. 

The sound of thrusters explodes across the plains. He leaps to his feet. His ears are ringing. His heart is pounding. He feels her before he sees her, the _Falcon_ silhouetted by the setting sun. 

He bolts into the front yard. The grass whips around his bare feet. He can feel the heat of the _Falcon’s_ engines now, the thrust blowing back his hair and drying his skin.

The _Falcon_ thuds to earth with enough force to rattle Ben’s teeth. Rey has landed too quickly, but, as far as Ben is concerned, not quickly enough. He sprints to the landing platform so he’s there just as it opens, and Rey hurls herself into his arms.

Her face is already wet with tears. ‘I missed you so much.’

He’s crying too. ‘I know.’

*

He has imagined her naked so many times, but nothing could prepare him for this.

Her life story is written in her body – a scavenger, a fighter, a Jedi. All lean muscle and brown skin that is only enhanced by the odd silvery scar. Her breasts are small and round and topped with puffy pink nipples. Her stomach is flat, the line of her abdominals leading down towards a deep navel that he longs to dip his tongue in. But once he sees it, all his attention is focused on the triangular thatch of dark hair at the apex of her legs. He can already see a hint of moisture on the curls, and he could pass out with how fast the blood rushes to his cock.

She watches him watching her and steps closer in the dim light of their bedroom.

‘I don’t want to wait anymore.’

*

She guides him backwards onto their bed and straddles him. He nearly chokes at the feel of her, blazing hot even through his breeches, right over the hard ridge of his cock. She grinds against him and they moan together and from this angle he gets his first proper glimpse of her cunt – swollen and wet, pink clitoris just begging to be touched – and _Force_ , this is already too much, he could come from just looking at her, the blank spaces and hidden details finally filled, no secrets left between them.

*

He flips her onto her back, holding tight to her wrists and presses hot, open mouth kisses down her neck, relishing in her laboured breathes and moans, the way she trembles beneath him. The valley between her breasts tastes of salt and he chases the flavour with his tongue before focusing on her nipples, drawing them into his mouth and sucking gently at first, then harder, so that her nails bite into his shoulders and scratch pink lines into his sides.

He shoulders her legs apart and spreads her open with his thumbs. For a long moment, he does nothing but stare, his cock aching with the knowledge that he is the first to see this part of her, this slick channel that was surely made just for him.

He doesn't have to look up to know she's blushing. She tries to close her legs, but he presses his cheek to the inside of one thigh. 

'Stay still.' The feel of his hot breath against her has her whimpering.

'Ben...' she warns.

He starts slowly, pressing his nose right up against her and inhaling the sweet, musky scent that has kept him awake for years, his blood boiling, his mouth watering with want. He licks the crease of both thighs, the flesh of both lips, before running his tongue slowly and deliberately up the very seam of her.

She moans, low and guttural. He has to throw an arm over her midsection to keep her in place. She tastes like honey, like ambrosia. He devours her, licking and sucking until she’s gasping, her fingers pulling at his hair, her toes curling in the sheets. She bears down on his face, on his tongue, and so he dips a finger into her, just to test her, and she’s so tight he wonders how she will ever take his cock.

‘I can take it.’ She’s reading his mind, and he knows she’s seeing every dirty fantasy he’s ever had of her, the countless half-formed images of her bent over and spread every which way, his cock buried anywhere she’ll take it, her face flushed and slack with pleasure.

It's his turn to blush.

‘Please. Force, Ben, _please_.’

He presses his finger all the way inside, relishing in the slow slide, the way she sucks him in. Once he’s as deep as he can go, he keeps his finger still, licking her through the stretch, feeling her muscles flutter in time with her heartbeat. Only once she settles does he add a second finger. He moves them slowly in and out, glancing up at her face every few thrusts to gauge her.

The bond is sizzling between them. The walls have been down in her head since they arrived, but he’s never felt so close to her, so close to anyone. He feels her pleasure as if it’s his own and his gut tightens in anticipation, heat pooling in his spine. He crooks his fingers inside her, pressing firmly against her spongey inner wall and flattening his tongue against her clitoris the way he inherently knows she likes.

 _‘Come for me,’_ he whispers in her head.

She cries out. Almost shoots off the bed. He holds her fast and she bears down on his fingers, on his face, her thighs spasming around him, almost smothering him. He licks her through it, fingers thrusting in time with his cock into the mattress and she is beautiful, she is perfect, even better than he imagined.

Only once she’s finished, once she’s begging him to stop, does he come up for air, his mouth covered in her slickness, her juices dripping down his wrist.

*

Brow furrowed in concentration, he braces himself above her, his cock finally at her entrance, the head slick with her juices. He thought he might struggle to hold himself back in this moment, to wait for her sign, but he wants so much to please her, for their union to be perfect and void of pain, that he has all the time and patience in the world.

He stares into her eyes. ‘Tell me if it’s too much.’

She rolls her hips. ‘Please.’

He presses forward and nothing could prepare him for the feel of her. She is molten hot and slick and almost painfully tight. She inhales sharply and he presses a firm kiss to her lips, to the tears beading in the corners of her eyes. Her pupils are wide and fixed on him. He can make out each individual eyelash.

Once he’s all the way inside, he stills, holding himself steady, fighting the urge to fuck her into the mattress. To own her completely.

‘You OK?’ he asks shakily.

She nods. ‘Yes. I just need...’

She adjusts her position, her muscles clenching around him and pulling him deeper. For one terrifying moment, he thinks he might come. But he takes a deep breath through his nose and somehow holds it together.

‘You can move now.’ She rolls her hips and he doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Slowly, he pulls out of her and pushes all the way back in. She hisses and bites his shoulder, but the pain only amplifies the pleasure, his hands tangling in her hair and clutching the sheets on either side of her head.

‘Kiss me,’ she breathes.

He lowers his face towards hers, lips brushing her cheek, her nose, then slowly making their way towards her mouth. He kisses her gently, very gently, and through the bond, he can feel her pain starting to dissipate, the first sparks of pleasure kindling in its wake. Her hands smooth over his shoulders, down his sides, finishing on the hard muscles of his arse and he feels her fingers biting in, urging him to move a little faster.

Force, the noises she makes.

He draws a smooth calf up and over his hip, pressing them even more tightly together. He’s so deep inside her now he can scarcely tell where he ends and she begins and he is starting to sweat, droplets beading on his forehead and chest, the bond humming louder and drawing tight like an elastic band stretched between them. She feels incredible, perfect, and he knows in this instant there can never be another. There can be no one else. She is the beginning and the end. He would kill for her, he would die for her, he would destroy the whole galaxy or, Force, build a new one if she asked.

When they come, they come together, and it’s not the clash of lightsabres, the explosion of stars, he imagined but something far greater, a fundamental shift in the Force, and he can see himself through her eyes, how beautiful she thinks he looks with his face pink and slack with pleasure, his hair dark and loose, sweat glistening on his chest. The feeling grows and changes and he can feel how much he loves her, how much she loves him, and maybe she did die after all, maybe they both did, because surely, surely, this is Heaven.

*

Afterwards, they lie facing one another, limbs tangled, bodies cooling. They’re so close, their noses brush with every breath, and he has travelled the galaxy only to find the whole universe right here in her arms. 

*

They fall asleep and he is still having nightmares. He has had them all: killing her in the wintery forest, in the desert, in deepest space. He used to think he longed for her death but if he’s honest, he loved her even when he was supposed to hate her. That’s why when he cradles her limp body in his arms on Exegol and she doesn’t wake up, he’s screaming.

Any sound is better than the silence in his head.

He jerks awake, gasping. His eyes shoot open and his first thought is for her, always her. He rolls on his side. She is turned away from him, her hair coming loose from its three buns, baby hairs coiling on the nape of her neck. Her chest is rising and falling beneath the sheets. He can hear her soft breathing. Feel the warmth emanating from her body. Or at least he thinks he can. He’s not sure. Force, he’s really not sure.

He touches her shoulder. Whispers her name. 'Rey.'

She does not stir.

His fingers curl around her collarbone. He shakes her. Says her name louder this time. ‘Rey.’

Groaning, she rolls onto her back. Her eyes crack open, narrow slits of green. He releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

‘What’s wrong?’ Her voice is thick with sleep.

Relief turns to shame. His face starts to heat. His throat feels tight and there’s an unpleasant pressure building behind his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he rasps. ‘I just needed to check. I just needed to…’

She reaches up and pulls his face into her breast. Though he bites his lip to keep quiet, he can’t help the full body sob that escapes him. His shoulders shake as she cards her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders. He can still smell the sweat of their lovemaking; he can feel his cheeks and the soft skin of her breasts getting wet.

‘Shh…’ she coos. ‘It’s OK.’

He wraps his arms around her, and the bond responds in kind.

Sometime later, he allows himself to fall back asleep holding tight to the notion that she is right.


End file.
